


Linger over Every Part

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier - Holmes/McMahon/Lang & Lang & Gale
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Massage, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Sherrezade finds Ja'far very sore from a long day of useless meetings in the palace and offers him relief.My goal of covering every naughty-sounding line of A Thousand and One Nights is advancing one fic at a time. Set during Sherrezade and Ja'far's marriage. Very fluffy. Enjoy :)
Relationships: Ja'far/Sherrezade (Twisted)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Linger over Every Part

Sherrezade read Ja'far like a book, better than he knew himself. He could count on her knowing his woes, his joys. She had not taken two steps inside their home that she noticed him there already and how stiffly he was sitting. Before he had even the time to greet her, she was at his side, kissed his cheek.

"What a sight for sore eyes," she noted as she gave herself a seat on his lap. "What's troubling you, dear?"

He sighed. His arms around her, nothing could ever truly be wrong.

"You'll tease me," he said.

He buried his face into her neck, breathed her in. She smelled of the palace, of petty wealthy people who did not deserve to hear even the first sentence of her stories, but little by little, she regained herself whenever she came home to him. Ja'far too, he supposed, put on somewhat of a performance among self-titled good society. How relieved he was when the show was over at the end of the day, the few hours when there was nobody other than him and his true love. He loved to serve the people, but often he wished he could stretch these hours into eternity and serve Sherrezade alone.

"I'm sure I will," she said.

Her lips trailed a slow garland of softness across his jaw and he shuddered in contentment.

"I've aged," he sighed. "I'm simply sore from sitting idly at a meeting all day."

True to her words, she smirked − but kindly. Her palms rubbed his arms up and down soothingly.

"I'm married to an old man."

"You're older than me," he retorted, faking a pout.

A kiss shut him up and he took it all too eagerly. Hands riding up his arms caught behind his neck. His back was killing him and his bottom was embarrassingly sore after sitting a whole day in a group of people he all despised more than the next but Sherrezade's touch was healing.

"Only by a few months, my love," she said. "You married a crone."

He laughed.

"We're not yet thirty," he said. "Neither of us are old." He sighed, leaning his head back against the chair, closed his eyes. "This palace life is exhausting, that's all. All these meetings, nothing ever gets done. Just sitting till my ass is sore."

Sherrezade's hand slipped behind him and Ja'far's ass was thoroughly squeezed by his lovely wife.

"This ass?"

He could only smile.

"The very same."

Sherrezade took great pleasure in asserting her marital privilege of enjoying Ja'far's body. She touched him shamelessly and often and every time made him realize all over again how lucky he was to have her for a wife. In her hands only, he was as handsome as any adonis.

"Is this how you heal an old man's sore body?" He teased.

For joke she pinched him, but gave him a kiss on the lips for tender forgiveness.

"No, it's not," she said with a smile.

She hopped off his lap to open a drawer in the cupboard near their bed. In their tiny home, everything was near everything, he supposed. Finding her prize, she pushed it shut again and gestured Ja'far up.

"Off to bed with you, husband."

"Wha…?"

But she was already skipping away merrily, climbing on the bed and, her hands held out to him, she enticed him her way.

"It's called a massage, my love, surely you've heard of it."

"Why, yes I have, of course."

Her smile turned to wicked temptation.

"Then you know that it's best given from skin to skin."

Her eyes fell down to the clothes on him, then up into his eyes. There was a teasing glint to them that made him feel especially warm and content.

"You wonderful woman," he sighed. "What have I done to deserve you?"

Sherrezade never looked away from him as Ja'far took off all the clothes between him and her begging eyes. He folded them neatly on the back of a chair and wouldn't have been sure where to stop if his wife didn't stare so intently once he was down to just hearts boxer shorts.

"I thought your butt was sore," she said.

Ja'far huffed. In one quick pull, the boxers were off and she was satisfied.

"And what have I done to deserve _you_ …" She muttered and beckoned him to her.

"You know I'll want to repay the favor," he said as he lied down on the bed at her commanding gaze.

She huffed in silent amusement.

"You make it sound a chore."

His body pressed down into their cheap mattress, heavier than he had known, face buried in the pillow. A clicking sound, Sherrezade opening the bottle she had picked from the cupboard. For a few seconds, nothing, then the warm touch of her oiled hands against his back made him groan out loudly.

"It's a reward, dear," she said. Her voice had dropped to a whisper but he heard it all the more clearly in the sole focus on it. "I entertain the court all day, the least I can do is entertain myself at home."

Her hands were gliding smoothly across his back, shoulders and, yes, his butt. Soft yet firm, soothing away the tension of the palace life, Sherrezade made him feel better already.

"And are you very entertained, then?" He asked.

She rubbed the back of his shoulders, a spot he had not even noticed was painfully tense until it no longer was. His arms, numb with taking useless notes all day, his neck. He felt a kiss against it and smiled into the pillow.

"That depends," she said. "Are you?"

Her voice was honey and spice, as intoxicating as the finest wine. For a few seconds of eternity, the touch stopped, but how satisfying the weight off the bed and the low rustle of fabric sliding off behind him which he could only dreamily imagine the sight of. How better yet the much deeper touch when her hands were on him again. Skin on skin, he felt her breasts brush against his back and her breath at his ear. He sighed in contentment. Their bodies seemed always to fit with one another. In this instant and always, his body was feeling very in tune with hers indeed. Her hands had a bit of heaven to them.

"That's one word for it," he replied eventually.

She was straddling his hips and he felt her body slide smoothly against his back as she leaned to whisper into his ear.

"Turn around, Ja'far."

She was a tease, a temptress, she was perfection. Presently, she was also naked. Choosing to ignore the fact, she especially ignored its effect on him. He wasn't completely hard anyways, more comfortable than horny − for now. The magic of her was spreading through her hands across his arms, his torso, down to his legs avoiding an ever needier part of him. He wouldn't dare to ask for more. For now, he didn't even crave more, taking whichever sweetness Sherrezade would bestow onto him of her choosing. Down his shins and up again, brushing his hips at the sides, she straddled him, an empress born to rule over him. If only she knew her birthright on his person. Ja'far closed his eyes and smiled.

"Are you feeling a little better?"

He sighed out comfortably.

"A lot," he said, nodding.

"I'm glad."

Her thumbs glided across the crease of his hips, so close to that tension she had created all on her own but still avoiding it so narrowly.

"I'd tell you that you don't need to get yourself so worked up, my dear." Her voice was so close he could feel her breath and the perfume of her was inebriating. "But I fear you won't listen."

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest and for a moment he was trapped between his stomach and hers and might have sought relief there, but Sherrezade gave him a quick kiss on the lips before sitting up again. She took him in her hand, stroked him once, twice, and the touch was gone. He groaned.

"Worked up, you say."

The massage continued, the danger zone averted again. Hands flat against his skin, she made all parts of him warm and tingly and perfect. Sherrezade made everything better caring for it.

"It's lucky I'm here or I think you'd lose yourself in your poor nerves."

"My nerves?" He muttered under his breath. "You're the one who puts them through test with your wicked tease."

She took pity on him then. With a giggle, her hand wrapped around him again and this time stayed there, stroking him snug but leisurely. With the other, she caressed his chest. A thumb caught on his nipple and he whimpered, his hips instinctively pushing up into her touch. He wondered how he might ever leave this bed again.

"How is your back, my love?"

"Out of my mind," he replied.

She had the talent, he supposed, to bring his attention entirely to herself from one heartbeat to the next. He could think of nothing else but the hand around him, her palm hot with the motion, awakening his passion with every stroke. The touch became looser and Ja'far opened his eyes curiously as he felt her scoot back from his lap. Her warm brown eyes staring up into his with a love he could not comprehend or contain, she lay down, allowed herself between his thighs.

He sighed out loudly at the first touch of her lips on him. The look of her when she took him in her mouth, catching up with her hand, how warm and soft the kiss of her. He reached down to touch her cheek, push her hair back out of her way, begged for her other hand to hold in his. In these moments more than ever, he contemplated how magnanimous, how perfect the divine wish surely must be to grant a poor man like Ja'far the most precious of love, to allow the most beautiful woman in his life. Assuredly, he did something heavenly in loving her. Soft skin of her round cheek under his fingers, her hand in his on his stomach, he thought he had found his everlasting reward already. Sherrezade's mouth popped from him with a wet sound, the hand picking up tight around the tip.

"You know, dear husband, I miss you when you're out there on your sore ass in the palace."

Her tongue on him again, a light caress almost insufferable if it wasn't so sublime. Ja'far was in no mind to reply, but Sherrezade often talked for her enjoyment and his, not for conversation. She was a storyteller after all.

"I think about you all day and there's a bit of our love in all my stories."

She took him deeper again and his hand clamped on hers tight. She was a miracle of miracles. Ja'far loved looking into her eyes when she loved him so. He could find the entire world in the dark bright eyes boring into his. He felt the caress of her tongue against him till she let him out again and trailed a few kisses down his length.

"This part doesn't make the cut, though."

"Sherrezade…"

She smiled, though with some teasing.

"But it's a story I'll tell you and you alone as many times as you wish."

She did − adeptly and often, and presently with a purpose. He wondered how it was that such a creature could exist with so many good qualities and talents. He was certain he had not a fraction of what she possessed. Yet every night and every day she loved him well and loved him hot and wet and snug and Ja'far was the most blessed of men. Her mouth on him, how intimate and special the kisses of her. He pushed another tendril of loose hair behind her ear.

"Very soon, my darling," he muttered as a warning.

She finished him off with her hand, with that smile that never left him even when they were apart, looking up at him with such tenderness as she played all of her tricks on him. That perhaps as much as anything that had come before tipped him over the edge. She stroked him through it, harder at first but slowing as the pleasure washed over and eventually stopped when nothing was left but the panting mess of him. A kiss against his thigh and she hopped off the bed.

"That's one cure the physicians never seem to recommend," he noted to her amusement. "I've never felt more relaxed."

She washed her hands at the sink, getting a wet cloth to clean him off as well. Ja'far let himself be doted on obediently, smiling up at her in the laziest of afterglows. She sat straddled on his lap again.

"Consider me your healer, then."

He snorted. The cloth was dropped to the floor. Catching her hands in his, he brought them to his lips, kissed a palm then the other.

"Maybe I will."

Sherrezade had the advantage of wit and beauty and kindness but, if nothing else, Ja'far had the strength of his heart and, presently, of his arms. He pulled her hips to him as he leaned back and, her legs trapping his face, soft warm skin around him, Ja'far lost himself in loving his wife.

"Ja'far…"

A hand caught on the headboard for support, the other tangled in his hair. He lived to serve her always and in any way he could, of course. In this instant, she seemed hardly to need his help at all. She took her pleasure at his mouth all on her own, still Ja'far tried to give as much as he had been given, though it could never be enough. Always he loved her with every part of him, often a very specific part, and now his tongue and his mouth. Sherrezade sighed out her pleasure amorously, a delightful little song that was his alone to hear. He embraced her hips, his hands narrowing around her waist, and sang her a love song of his own in silence.

She came in the most beautiful unraveling. There was never an ounce of shame to her, hardly ever self-conscious. Head hanging back, she rode it out splendidly till the last bit of it and Ja'far moaned at how snug she clamped against him, around his tongue. The change in her was immediate, so soft she became, lying down on top of him to shower him with lazy kisses. He brushed his fingers through her hair, gave back every sloppy attention she paid him.

"A bath?" He offered.

He filled the tub, glancing over at the soft shape of her lounging in their bed, leaning on an elbow to look at him. Her hair was falling on her breasts, her eyes drooping with contentment. They smiled at each other. Nothing was said or needed to be said.

The bath was warm and silent and comfortable. Sat between his legs, she was in a tight embrace against him, a small tub in a small house. It was enough. It was perfect. He rubbed her back with soap, lather and kisses. Sherrezade took his attentions so tenderly and gratefully, periodically glancing back at him to give him soft smiles. They lingered there quietly until the water was too lukewarm to be comfortable.

Ja'far stepped out of the tub first so that he could help Sherrezade out of it and wrapped her in their largest, softest towel. Having dried themselves, they changed into their night robes and Ja'far sat on their armchair again, Sherrezade on his lap. He combed her damp hair, silky soft under his fingers, till she leaned back against him, nuzzling her face against his neck. She yawned.

"Tired already?" He asked and wrapped his arms around her.

She nodded, breathed him in as she turned to tuck herself more comfortably in the embrace. Ja'far kissed the crown of her head.

"You married an old woman," she said with a smirk.

He kissed her hair, brought her hand to his lips too.

"Would you have us go back to bed?"

She nodded again and let out a tired giggle when, without waiting for her to jump off his lap, Ja'far suddenly stood and carried her there cradled in his arms. They fell into each other on the bed and he arranged the cover around the both of them without shuffling around too much for her sake. Sherrezade sighed with satisfaction. Her head against his shoulder, her hand on his heart was all the comfort Ja'far could ever need.

"You take good care of me, Ja'far," she mumbled tiredly.

Her fingers traced circles against his chest, first over the robe but she pulled it open to touch skin.

"And you of me, sweetheart," he replied.

He kissed the top of her head and tickled slow fingers at her temple to wind her down. Another yawn she muffled into his shoulder. She'd be sleeping very soon and it would be Ja'far's treat to later lull himself to sleep to the sound of her breathing.

"Goodnight," she said, sensing that near future herself. "Love you."

"And I love you," he said.

How well they knew each other, he could only marvel at. Though every day he found something new to love and admire about her, he also had the certitude that no one would ever understand her like he did, or she him. Like a favorite story one read over and over again, they knew each other by heart. And as he settled into the sleeping embrace of him, Ja'far thought this was a story he would gladly live for lifetimes to come as far as he could imagine.


End file.
